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Choral music is a niche
product for classical-music aficionados, and religious choral music even more
so – and modern choral music even more so. Yet although the result is niches
within niches, there are some very fine recordings available for people whose
tastes run in those directions, even if the CDs are not the sort to attract previously
unconvinced listeners to the kind of music they present. Both Sing, Ye Birds, a Joyous Song and My Beloved’s Voice, for example, combine
some choral music that is very old indeed with some that is quite recent. The
Yale Schola Cantorum’s performance on Delos includes the Western Wind Mass by John Taverner (1490-1545), a plainly set and
for that reason emotionally effective work; the moving Te lucis ante terminum by Thomas Tallis (1503-1585); and Glorious and Powerful God and Second Evening Service by Orlando
Gibbons (1583-1625), with Lucas Wong on organ. To the old Latin settings the CD
adds The Glory and the Dream by
Richard Rodney Bennett (1936-2012) – a curious and strangely effective
centerpiece of the recording, using poems by William Wordsworth that celebrate
nature as well as God, and do so in musical language that differs from that of
the Renaissance but complements it surprisingly well. The beautifully balanced
performances led by Simon Carrington make this a very engaging disc, and Thomas
Murray, organist for the Bennett work, makes a noteworthy contribution to it.

In a similar vein, but
utilizing shorter pieces, the Choir of Jesus College Cambridge under Mark
Williams presents 20 different works of highly varied provenance on a Signum
Records release. These range from Sicut lilium
by Antoine Brumel (1460-1515) and Nigra
sum by Pablo Casals (1479-1528) to four pieces based on the Song of Solomon by Howard Skempton (born
1947) and Set me as a seal by Nico
Muhly (born 1981). Indeed, the Song of
Solomon is the underlying unifying factor for nearly all this music,
whether interpreted in its original Old Testament form as a deep and highly
sensual love song or, as Christians prefer, as a parable of the “wedding” of
Christ and the church. The differing exegeses of the text allow for a wide
variety of approaches to music based on it, and they are what Williams explores
here – sometimes in highly interesting ways, sometimes in curious ones
generated by the juxtaposition of music from very different times (e.g., Clemens non Papa, 16th
century, followed by Louis Vierne, 20th; and Martin de Rivafrecha,
16th century, followed by one of Edvard Grieg’s Four Psalms after
Old Norwegian Church Melodies, 20th).
The singing, in any case, is warm and emotionally communicative throughout the
CD.

There
is warmth and beauty as well in the voices of eight members of the Choir of
Trinity Wall Street in the Missa
gentis humanæ (“Mass for the
Human Race”) by Ralf Yusuf Gawlick (born 1969). Laid out like a traditional
Latin Mass, the work is in fact a hybrid that mixes Mass elements with
selections from the Gospel of John and poetry and prose by Virgil, Brecht,
Plautus, Dostoevsky, Brecht, Sir Walter Scott and others. The result is a very unusual
work indeed, celebrating within an entirely religious overall structure the
things that make humans human and worth saving – by whom or what, when and
under what circumstances, is another matter. Pagan, Christian and irreligious,
the juxtaposed texts are intended to illuminate the many forms taken by faith
throughout the ages, the intent being to unite all believers, and even
unbelievers, under the grand umbrella of what it means to be human. A very
ambitious piece that constantly seems ready to come apart at the seams – and
that certainly shows those seams often enough – Missa gentis humanæ gets sensitive shaping and a high level of understanding from Julian
Wachner on a Musica Omnia disc. But the work remains, when all is said (or
sung) and done, a piece that strives mightily without ever managing to be as
engaging or moving as Gawlick clearly wants it to be.

Wachner does an equally effective
conducting job in his own music – and is a fine organist in it, too. Musica
Omnia’s three-CD compilation of Wachner’s works includes much that is jazzy and
energetic as well as a good deal that is intended to be uplifting. This is a lot of Wachner, and as such is a release
of even more limited appeal than is usual for a recording of contemporary
music. In addition to Symphony No.
1 (“Incantations and Lamentations”) (2001), the recording includes Come, My Dark-Eyed One (2008); Regina Coeli (2002); Canticles (1990); Jubilate Deo (2006); Psalm
Cycle I (1989) and Psalm Cycle III
(2003); Blue Green Red (2014); Alleluias, Intercessions and Remembrances
(1995); Holy, Holy, Holy (2009); Joy to the World (2004); and All Creatures of Our God and King
(1992). The pervasive religious themes do not, thankfully, mean long stretches
of dully worshipful music: Wachner’s palette is comparatively extensive, and he
communicates his thoughts through a highly varied set of performers. These
include NOVUS N.Y., a new-music orchestra; the Choir of Trinity Wall Street and
the Trinity Youth Choir; the Majestic Brass Quintet; singers Jessica Muirhead
(soprano), Steven Wilson (tenor) and Christopher Burchett (bass-baritone);
Stephen Burns on trumpet; Caroline Cole on harp; and Janet Yieh – as well as
Wachner himself – on organ. Wachner also serves as conductor, and he certainly
knows how to evoke the expressiveness of his own music. But, again, there is a lot of it here, and a certain tedium
does set in as the settings progress, despite Wachner’s attempts to make the
material as sonically varied as it can be – consistent with its subject matter.

The subject matter mixes the
sacred and the worldly on a new Naxos CD featuring music for baritone and full orchestra
or chamber ensemble by Kenneth Fuchs (born 1956). Falling Man (2009-10) is a dramatic scena based on Don DeLillo’s post-9/11 novel; here there is an
attempt to find meaning in an ultimately meaningless act of vicious mass
murder, with Fuchs using excerpts from DeLillo’s prose to try – as have many
others – to extract something of value from an act of war perpetrated by
determined killers. Roderick Williams’ singing is effective – not only here but
also throughout the disc – but the subject matter has been handled so often,
with much the same intent, that the work is less emotionally potent than Fuchs intends.
Movie House (2007) is something quite
different: a setting of seven poems by John Updike, and an altogether lighter
and less-fraught work. At more than half an hour, it goes on rather too long
for the quality of its material, although it does contain some well-chosen and
well-set words. More moving and thoughtful, and ultimately more meaningful even
than Falling Man, is Songs of Innocence and of Experience
(1977), in which Fuchs sets four poems by William Blake – whose strange,
sometimes mystical sensibility stays with the listener far more tellingly than
does the much more straightforward and self-consciously emotive work of DeLillo
and Updike. Fuchs’ setting does not compare to the far more extensive and
deeper one of William Bolcom – one of the genuine masterpieces of 20th-century
music. But Fuchs’ handling of the material is careful, involving and knowing,
and shows his attraction to and understanding of Blake’s unusual, sometimes
difficult-to-fathom visions. JoAnn Falletta leads the London Symphony Orchestra
with sure-handedness and a clear comprehension of the music, giving Fuchs’
works plenty of opportunities to connect with listeners and move them.

Vocal connection with the
audience – as viscerally as possible – is what the operas of Verdi are all
about. Even Verdi operatic excerpts can make a strong emotional connection with
listeners, which is why there are so many CDs of them. But the new Capriccio
disc featuring tenor Ramón
Vargas is not just another one of these. Vargas here presents a side of Verdi
that is almost as unfamiliar as his chamber music: his songs. These are works
in which the opera composer experimented with the emotions he wanted to evoke
and the music in which he wanted to cloak those feelings. Like the sketches of
a painter, the songs of Verdi are simpler and often more-forthright, more-raw
visions of what he would later do in his opera arias and ensembles. They are
pale by comparison with his theatrical works for voice and orchestra, and will
not be particularly gripping even for most Verdi fans; but they do provide
insights into the way Verdi used music and words to characterize particular
individuals and to bring forth the emotional expressions that he wanted to
convey. Vargas here offers two sets of Romances,
with six songs in each, plus individual tracks both secular and sacred. On the
worldly side are L’esule, La seduzione,
Il poveretto and Stornello; on
the religious one are Tantum ergo and
Ave Maria. Ably accompanied by
pianist Charles Spencer on all the songs and by soprano Joanna Parisi on a few
of them, Vargas evokes and emotes words by St. Thomas Aquinas, Goethe (via
Luigi Balestra), poet and librettist Andrea Maffei, and others, showing that
although Verdi was scarcely an expert in lieder,
he was quite capable of utilizing the form of the song to explore a variety of
thoughts and feelings – and later expand upon that form to produce arias with
far stronger emotive qualities. Fine singing and unusual repertoire combine to
make this disc an intriguing one, albeit for a decidedly limited audience.